Best Served Cold
by OhioOwl
Summary: A foolish action from Zorro's past may prove to be Diego's undoing.
1. Peru

Best Served Cold  
1 - _Peru_

 **Best Served Cold**

Chapter 1: Peru

 **A/N:** This story takes place four years after "A Friend Indeed".

The return ride from the Callao warehouses was pleasant enough. But as soon as Mateo Camarena turned into the stableyard he sensed that something was wrong. The space was deserted. No one tended a horse. No one forked out hay. A wagon stood half unloaded. A full bucket of water stood midway between the well and the stalls.

He dismounted and made his way into the _hacienda_ and up the stairs. At the top he came to an abrupt halt. A few paces down the hall a dozen servants, some of them weeping, were clustered at the doorway to his uncle's bedroom. And now he could hear the soft drone of the priest intoning the prayers of the last rites. He approached the steward. "What has happened?"

"His heart again. He was stricken mid-morning, very suddenly," replied the old servant slowly, shaking his head and lowering his eyes. "It is very bad. He…he…the doctor is not hopeful." A pause. "But he has been calling for you."

Mateo quietly slipped into the room and crossed to the bed. He looked down at the face of the man of middle years who had cared for him since childhood. That face was pale now, and lined, and the eyes dull. The breathing was uneven". "Tio," he said softly. "I am here."

"Ah, Mateo! My good Mateo!" came the reply, hardly more than a whisper. "I am glad you have returned." His right hand slid across the coverlet with effort. Mateo reached out and took it in his own. "Every time I look at you I see my beloved sister's face." A ragged breath. "You have been like a true son to me these many years. I am happy that I can leave the estate and the business in your capable hands."

"Do not talk like that, I beg you!"

"Between the two of us I was always the realist." The older man smiled and began a chuckle that rapidly turned into a cough. Once he recovered his breath, he continued. "At the moment there is little pain. But this is the worst attack I have had so far, and I know I have only a little time left. Do you know where my will is?"

" _Por favor_ , do not ask me such things!" exclaimed Mateo, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

"If I am to leave all in order, I _must_ ask you such things, as you well know". He swallowed. "Many many people depend on us for their livelihood. I do not wish my passing to cause difficulty for anyone." He slowly took another deep breath and continued, as though he were quizzing a schoolboy: "Now, do you know where the will is?"

" _Sí_ , I remember. But you must not trouble yourself. I will make sure everything proceeds in order. You must know that all the servants and the workmen trust and respect you and —"

Suddenly the pale face changed. The dull eyes sparked with anger and the lines in the face tightened. "Respect!" the man spat. "What do I know of respect?! I knew the truth and they all laughed at me!"

 _Oh no, not again! I should never have used that word_ , thought the younger man.

The doctor glanced at Mateo, puzzled at the sudden change in his patient's demeanor.

"I saw him. I tell you, I saw his face," rasped the sick man, clenching his fists. "I knew the truth and no one would believe me."

"Tio, calm yourself, I beg you."

"He won the prize that should have been mine, and then he left. He never gave me a rematch." He became more agitated and began to toss his head from side to side. "I saw his face and then he left. I knew the truth and they all laughed at me."

"My son, your thoughts should be on your immortal soul," offered the priest, trying to sooth the dying man.

Suddenly the grip on Mateo's hand tightened with surprising ferocity. "You must punish him, Mateo! You must make him pay for the mockery I suffered."

" _Sí, Tio_. I will do that," said the young man in an even, almost dismissive voice.

"Swear! You must swear! Swear to me on your mother's grave that you will do it!"

Seeing that his uncle would not be comforted until he did, Mateo declared: "I swear on my mother's grave that I will make the man pay for what he did."

"His name! Do you remember his name?"

"Of course I do, Tio. You have told it to me many times. Now rest, _por favor_."

The invalid sunk back into his pillows, all the anger draining away. "Yes," he hissed in a whisper. "you will make him pay." A deep breath, let out in a long sigh. Another slow breath. "You will…make…him… paaa…". And he was gone.

Hours later, after the initial arrangements had been made, Mateo and the doctor sat under a twilight sky sharing a bottle of brandy. The garden, spreading out from the north side of the house, offered a lovely view of the Rio Rimac and of the older part of the city on the opposite bank.

"Mateo, you have done everything you could for him. I know that this was hard, but you cannot be surprised. He had been experiencing the pain in his chest for over a year. You know that his father, your grandfather, also had a bad heart and died at much the same age."

The young man stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. " _Sí_ , I know. But I would liked to have had more warning."

"We would all like to have more warning of death," replied his companion, sipping the excellent liquid. "Still, there is one thing I do not understand. What disturbed him so much at the very end, what he said about 'respect' and knowing 'the truth'? What was that all about?"

Mateo stared across the river at the ancient skyline for a few moments, considering exactly what he should say. The doctor and his uncle had been fairly well acquainted, but not necessarily close. Even in the grave — perhaps especially in the grave — a man was entitled to some secrets. He began casually: "Some years ago, on his way here, my uncle stopped briefly to visit someone in Alta California. Apparently something happened there that caused my uncle great embarrassment, and I'm afraid that he could never let go of it. In fact, the older he became, the stronger his resentment grew."

"But I never saw such a feeling in him," observed the doctor.

"You would not have. With taking over after my father's death and then caring for my mother during her illness, he of necessity kept this feeling well hidden. Except every so often someone would say something that brought it to the surface like an erupting volcano. Much to my regret I did it today with the word 'respect'."

"But why would that simple word upset him so?"

"I really have no idea," replied Mateo, wishing to bring this subject to an end. "I'm afraid I don't know many of the details," he lied.

"But if I heard correctly, you know the name of this man?"

"I do. And if I ever happen to journey to Alta California I intend to look him up. It is someone named 'De la Vega'. "


	2. Introductions

Best Served Cold  
2 - _Introductions_

Chapter 2: Introductions

 **A/N:** _Vientos Buenos_ means "Fair Winds" in Spanish.  
 _Mi viejo_ means "my old friend" in Spanish.

The afternoon stage made its leisurely way across the plaza. Don César Montoya and his son Don Carlos, seated on the inn's patio, drained their glasses and turned their attention to the coach as it rolled to a stop in front of the inn. The two women and the young boy who stepped down from its doorway did not interest them. But at the sight of a young man wearing a dark blue travelling cloak and carrying a leather portfolio, the two dons rose and made their way toward him.

"Your pardon, _señor_ , but do I have the honor of addressing Don Mateo Camarena?" asked Don César.

"You do." replied the passenger. "And may I assume I have the honor of addressing Don César Montoya?"

"Your servant, sir!" said the don, bowing. "I am César Montoya and this is my son, Carlos. We bid you welcome to the Pueblo do Los Angeles. I do not know what arrangements you have in mind, but we would be happy to have you stay at our _hacienda_ while you are here."

"Ah, _gracias_ , but no. At the moment I would prefer to rest at the inn. _Where there are no servants to observe my comings and goings_. But perhaps when we have become better acquainted I will accept your gracious offer."

"As you wish," replied Don Cesar, a bit puzzled by this refusal. "Perhaps instead we may take a glass of wine with you while your baggage is inspected."

"My baggage inspected?. But why?"

"It is a local regulation, I'm afraid. And since I see Lieutenant Garcia and his lancers now coming from the _cuartel_ I am sure it will not take long." Don Mateo followed Don Carlos' gaze to behold a portly officer and three soldiers approaching. The officer walked up to Don Mateo and snapped a salute while the soldiers began to examine the boxes and trunks that were being unloaded.

" _Señor_ , I am Lieutenant Demetrio Lopez Garcia, _comandante_ of the Pueblo of Los Angeles. I am required to question all travelers. I must ask you to state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"I am Don Mateo Camarena of Lima, Peru, and I have come here on business," the young don replied easily enough.

"What kind of business, _Señor_?"

"I own a shipping company and I am here at the invitation of Don César to discuss certain arrangements with him and with any of the other dons who wish to participate in a new venture."

"Ah, Don César, this man is your guest, then?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," the don replied, still somewhat piqued at the refusal of his hospitality.

"Then that is all I need to know!" declared Garcia, now breaking into a broad smile and turning again to Don Mateo. "I hope your stay is a pleasant one, _Señor_!" And he drifted off to question the other passengers.

The three men began to turn toward the inn when Don Carlos noticed movement at the _cuartel_ gate and nudged his father. "Is that not Don Alejandro, Father? Should we ask him to join us?"

"You have sharp eyes, _mi hijo_. Yes, do go and ask him to join us. Señor Camarena and I will find a table inside."

The two older dons entered the inn, where Don César selected a table at the back toward he fireplace. " _Por favor_ , be seated." Catching Señor Pacheco's eye, he requested wine for four. A few moments later Don Carlos passed through the doorway , followed by a distinguished-looking silver-haired don.

"Alejandro, _mi viejo_! What brings you to the pueblo in the heat of the day?"

" _Buenos tardes_ César. Last night one of my _vaqueros_ had far too much wine than was good for him, so he ended up spending the night in one of Lieutenant Garcia's cells. I have paid his fine and sent him home in Benito's care.

"Will you dismiss him then?"

"No, for he is a good man and has never gotten this drunk before. He will have another chance."

Young Don Carlos cleared his throat and Don Cesar suddenly remembered his guest. Turning to the newcomer, he declared: "But forgive my lack of manners. Don Mateo, this Alejandro De la Vega, one of my oldest and dearest friends. Alejandro, may I present Don Mateo Camarena of Lima, Peru." The two men bowed to each other as custom dictated.

Shielding his surprise behind a pleasant face, Don Mateo thought: _This cannot be he. He is much too old._ _Perhaps there is a son or a much younger brother?_

Once the four men had settled themselves around the table and the wine was poured out, Don Alejandro began: "And may I ask what brings you to our pueblo?"

Mateo Camarena shot a look at Don César, who nodded slightly.

"I own a shipping and trading company, _Vientos Buenos_ , in Lima, Peru. For many years we have moved goods from this and many other pueblos in Alta California."

" 'Vientos Buenos' "repeated Don Alejandro. "I have heard of it. I understand it is quite successful. You must have good business instincts for one so young!"

"Alas, I cannot accept the credit you wish to give me. The company was founded by my father, who ran it until he was killed fighting for Peru's independence with General San Martin in 1821. I was still quite young, and my mother struggled to keep the business afloat. Happily eighteen months later her brother arrived to assist, and we have been more or less growing ever since."

"How fortunate for you," observed Don Cesar, reaching for the bottle to refill their glasses.

"I will always be thankful for the help my uncle gave us. Sadly he passed away six months ago. Like his own father, my grandfather, his heart was not strong and he did not live to old age."

"Please accept our condolences for your loss," stated the elder De la Vega. Don Carlos and his son nodded solemnly.

"But I cannot allow myself to dwell on the past," said Don Mateo with a sigh. "And I did not always see eye-to-eye with my uncle in business matters. Which is part of the reason I am here. As I said, we have in the past moved goods from this and many other pueblos. But we have always done it through a broker, an intermediary. I am considering whether we should expand the trade side of our business by beginning to deal directly with the _ranchos_ here for things such as hides, tallow, olive oil, and possibly wine."

"César, have you agreed to this?" asked Don Alejandro, frowning. In the past decisions such as this would have been discussed among all the landowners before any kind of deal was struck.

"No, no, not at all," replied Don Mateo very quickly. "I realize there are risks in disturbing the existing business relationships we already have with our usual buyers. Three months ago I had a letter from Don César regarding another matter, and when I replied I also presented my thoughts to him. He suggested — and wisely so, I believe —that I come to Los Angeles and meet some of his neighbors and merely discuss some possibilities." _It is a plausible enough reason — or at least one that cannot be disproved by anyone here_.

Don César took another sip of wine. "A very sensible approach, I think. My only concern, now that he is here, is how to arrange for contacts among the other dons."

"I have the very thing!" declared Don Alejandro. In two days we are giving a fiesta celebrating the wedding anniversary of my son and his wife. We would be most honored, Don Mateo, to count you among our guests. That way you may meet most of us landowners and present your ideas in an informal way in pleasant surroundings. Those who wish to discuss things further with you can then make specific arrangements."

"A most excellent plan, Alejandro!" said his old friend, smiling and turning to the newcomer. "You will attend, yes?"

"Your invitation is most gracious, Don Alejandro. I would be happy to attend," he said with a disarming smile. _And take advantage of a perfect opportunity to identify my quarry…_

Don Mateo Camarena spent the next two days resting up from the long voyage from Lima. Part of his particular method of "resting up" consisted of strolling around the plaza making innocent enough conversation, sometimes with the vendors at their stalls, sometimes with a passing lancer or two, and on one occasion with Celestino the blacksmith, from whom he hired the use of a horse. But he spent most of his time sitting in the inn or on its patio, sipping wine, occasionally chatting, occasionally buying wine for someone, but more often than not discretely eavesdropping on the conversations around him.

At least once a day he managed to invite Lieutenant Garcia for a meal, and thereby learned a good deal about the pueblo and its surrounding _ranchos_ , and — without seeming to pry, of course —everything there was to know about an outlaw called Zorro. It was very easy to get the Lieutenant to recount the many times he had "almost" captured the outlaw. At one point his host asked the obvious question: "Lieutenant, you have had so much experience with this outlaw. Do you have any idea at all who he is?"

Here Garcia laughed and replied: "There have been many theories over the years. Long ago the previous comandante actually thought…" — and here he almost choked on his wine for laughing — "that Don Diego De la Vega was Zorro! Imagine! The comandante was actually on the point of hanging him when the Governor himself arrived and took charge of the matter."

"What happened?"

"A month or so later, after examining all the existing reports and whatever "evidence" the comandante had collected, the Governor completed exonerated Don Diego, apologized officially, and even offered him compensation which he, being a true _caballero_ , declined."

"So that was the end of it?"

"Well, not exactly. A year or two later a traveler arrived from Spain and he also believed Don Diego to be Zorro. He even insisted that Zorro took off his mask and showed him his face, something everyone in the pueblo knows Zorro would never do," finished the portly officer, shaking his head.

"And what happened to this man?"

"Oh we captured him and his compatriot — it turned out that they were the ones who tried to steal the army payroll and then robbed Señor Pacheco at the inn — but they managed to slip away from the lancers who were taking them to the presidio at San Diego and they were never seen again. There have been many guesses at to Zorro's identity yet it remains a mystery."

"And yet two of these "guesses" identify Diego De la Vega as this outlaw." Garcia began to chortle again. "Why is that so funny, Lieutenant?"

"When you meet Don Diego at the fiesta, you will see!"

 _Indeed I will, Lieutenant. Indeed I will…_


	3. Fiesta

Best Served Cold  
3 - _Fiesta_

Chapter 3: Fiesta

 **A/N:** _Mariposa_ means "butterfly" in Spanish.

The _Quinceañera_ is a celebration marking a girl's passage to womanhood, generally held on or near her fifteenth birthday.

An _empanadilla_ is a small turnover filled with meat and vegetables.

The _hacienda_ was at its festive best. Paper lanterns and garlands of flowers decorated the patio and the balcony. The musicians, tucked into the corner between the _sala_ wall and the new wing, filled the air with pleasant melodies as guest chatted and helped themselves from the refreshment table. Don Alejandro remained near the patio gate, greeting his guests as they arrived. Diego and Margarita stood near the _sala_ doorway, accepting the congratulations and good wishes of their friends and neighbors. Don César approached the couple closely followed by Don Mateo.

" _Buenos noches_ , Don César," said Margarita, smiling and extending her hand.

" _Buenos noches_ ," echoed Diego.

Don César took her hand and kissed it. "Your many years of marriage must agree with you, for you are looking simply radiant this evening!"

"It's been a journey of great happiness for both of us!" she replied, glancing at her husband. "We feel we've been greatly blessed in our family!" Diego beamed at his wife and nodded in agreement.

Waiting to be introduced, Don Mateo surreptitiously took a good look at Diego. He saw a tall man of athletic build, with the bearing of a true _hidalgo_ yet an easy manner that did not disguise the intelligence behind his eyes. _This is he! It can be no other! He is exactly as my uncle described him!_

Now Don César turned to him. "If I may, I would like to present Don Mateo Camarena, a business associated from Peru who is visiting our pueblo."

Diego inclined his head. "Welcome, Don Mateo. My father has spoken of meeting you at the inn. We are happy that you could join is this evening."

"I am most pleased to be able to share in your celebration." _You have no idea how pleased_. He now took Margarita's hand and kissed it, then turned back to Diego: "You father is a most impressive man. I hope to learn much more about him, and about his son as well." The men nodded to each other then Don César and Don Mateo moved away to allow the next arrivals to greet the celebrating couple.

Don César introduced his visitor to several other prominent landowners, then the two of them separated, each to circulate on his own. Don Mateo spent a very pleasant hour chatting up these new acquaintances. He found at least three dons who expressed interest in the idea of dealing directly with _Vientos Buenos_ , and made arrangements to meet each of them later in the week and thus legitimately prolonging his stay.

He also learned the following things: that Señora De la Vega was American-born. That she and Don Diego had six children, much to Don Alejandro's delight. That the De la Vega _rancho_ was said to be the wealthiest in Alta California. That Don Diego was well liked among the community, but was universally regarded as a man whose main interests, apart from the _rancho_ , were poetry, and music. _Or so he would have you all believe_. That this had initially been a great disappointment to Don Alejandro, but that the old don had come to terms with his son's lack of interest in more vigorous pursuits.

It was after the dancing started that fate gave Don Mateo a rich gift. The musicians had struck up a lively tune and a good number of guests, Diego and Margarita among them, moved to the middle of the patio. The couples formed a large circle and moved forward. After a certain number of measures, they reversed themselves and headed back. Then when they had returned to their starting point

the couples stepped out two paces and faced each other. They circled around each other, first in one direction then in the opposite direction, all of this accompanied by many gestures and much clapping.

Since the music was fairly spirited, the arm movements had to be done quickly. It was while standing alone and observing this part of the dance that Don Mateo suddenly saw something bright bounce toward him and felt it strike the leg of his trousers. He bent down and picked up the object: it was a cufflink. But not just any cufflink. It was a cufflink engraved with the De la Vega crest. Mateo Camarena smiled and tucked it into the inside pocket of his vest. No doubt he would find a good use for it.

Alejandro De la Vega was enjoying himself immensely. He was never so happy as when he was playing the role of generous host. The anniversary party had been his idea, and he was well pleased with how things were going. He was standing near the foot of the patio stairs, looking across the dancing at the addition to the _hacienda_. The patio wall had been replaced by a new wing providing three bedrooms upstairs and an enlarged kitchen and pantry plus an all-purpose storeroom downstairs.

Suddenly he noticed a movement behind one of the garlands on the balcony. No one was visible so he decided to investigate. He mounted the stairs and walked the length of the original balcony. As he turned the corner at the addition, he saw his ten-year-old granddaughter Isabella crouching behind one of the upright supports and peering over the garland. He slowly crossed the distance then knelt softly beside her. "Isabella, you should be in bed."

She continued to watch the dancing below. "They are _so_ beautiful! O Abuelo, can I please go and join them? Please?"

"I'm afraid you cannot, _mi mariposa_. The dancing is only for grown-ups. But never fear, in a few years you will be fifteen. Once you have celebrated the _Quinceañera_ then you will dance, too."

Now she turned at looked up at him. "Fifteen! That will take forever! Can't I go down now, just this once? Pleeeeease, Abuelo?"

Don Alejandro looked down at the face that was an echo of his beloved wife's. The small pleading eyes were now brimming with tears. He felt his heart melt within him. "Well," he began, "I really cannot allow you to join the dance…" The tears began to overflow. "…but I think perhaps we might have a little practice in private." He took her hand and pulled her up.

"Really, Abuelo? How can we do that?" The tears had disappeared as if by magic.

He stepped back and looked at his granddaughter. "Well, first we must make you a señorita who is properly dressed for a fiesta!" He reached over and pulled a blossom out of the nearby garland and tucked it behind her ear. Then he ducked into her room and emerged with a laced-edged doily from her night table. This he draped over her hair. "There, that is a proper _mantilla_ for a señorita your age."

"Oh Abuelo…" she giggled.

"Now we must proceed to the dance floor." He held out his arm and she hooked her small arm through it. They walked very solemnly back to the balcony corner between the original building and the addition, where there was more room. He stopped and turned to face her. As luck would have it, the musicians were just striking up a waltz. "First, I bow and you curtsey." He bowed formally to her. She in turn held out her nightgown and bobbed a perfect curtsey for someone who was only ten years old.

"Now, we dance!" He took her hands in his and began swaying side to side, step-step-hold, step- step-hold, in time to the waltz, swinging their arms as well. Once she became accustomed to the movement, he began leading her around in a circle. He would remember the smiling look of delight on her face and the feeling of joy in his heart for the rest of his life. When the music ended, he bent and brought her right hand to his lips, and she giggled again.

"O _gracias_ , Abuelo!" she cried throwing her arms around him.

He cuddled her soft shoulders in return. "But now you must go back to bed. Perhaps you will dream of our dance!"

"I hope so Abuelo!"

He led her back to the room she shared with her younger sister Emmaline. Together they tip-toed to Isabella's bed, and she climbed in. Her grandfather pulled the blanket up, then kissed her. "Sleep well, _mariposa_ ," he whispered.

Don Mateo had spent a pleasant evening conversing with various dons and dancing with their wives and, occasionally, with their daughters. He was surprised at the amount of interest that had been expressed in his direct trading idea. Perhaps he would actually pursue it once his real objective had been achieved. Now he crossed the patio and surveyed the selections of _tapas_ on the refreshment table. As he was reaching for one of the _empanadillas_ , he was approached by Don Ignacio and Doña Luisa Torres. "I hope you are enjoying your time in our pueblo, Señor," said Doña Luisa.

"I am indeed. Los Angeles so far has proved to be a very festive place."

"And it will soon be yet more festive. In six days we are celebrating my wife's birthday at _Rancho_ Torres. Our daughter Elena and her husband are coming from San Juan Capistrano. We hope you will be our guest then if you are still here," offered Don Nacio."

" _Sí_ , _gracias_ , I have several appointments here over the next week or so. I will be happy to accept your kind invitation." The Torres couple drifted away.

Mateo Camarena stood quietly munching the _empanadilla_ , which was excellent. He finished his _jerez_ and looked around. Yes, a large and gracious _hacienda_ , a beautiful wife, a thriving family, cattle, fine horses. Diego De la Vega had much to lose indeed. And in fulfilling promise to his dying uncle, Mateo Camarena would see to it that he lost it all.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are always welcome!


	4. Assault

Best Served Cold  
4 - _Assault_

Chapter 4: Assault

Over the next several days Don Mateo visited two of the dons who had expressed interest in his trading venture. On one of these visits he "accidentally" overtired his horse and was forced to stop at _Rancho_ Torres to ask for water for the poor beast. Of course Don Ignacio was happy to oblige, interrupting the preparations for Luisa's birthday fiesta long enough to take some refreshment with his visitor. "We have much going-on just now, so let us have our Madeira outside. Come, I will show you the garden."

The two dons followed a servant bearing a tray around the side of the house to an extensive garden of shrubbery in full bloom. "This is Luisa's pride and joy. Some days she spend more time here than with me," he remarked, ruefully but with some humor. "She especially loves the arbor." He gestured toward the large vine covered arch at the far end of the garden.

Don Mateo's glance took in the entire area, noting that until one was several paces past the garden entrance the arbor remained hidden from view. "This is lovely! You have re-created a small plot of Eden here in Alta California. I salute you" he declared, raising his glass to Don Ignacio. They made polite conversation for the next ten minutes or so, then the visitor declared: "I believe my mount will be recovered by now. I do not wish to keep you from your preparations any longer. On behalf of both my horse and myself, _muchas gracias_ for your hospitality. And I am very happy to have seen your delightful garden."

 _You have no idea how happy_ , he thought, as he mounted and rode away.

Luisa Torres' birthday party was in full swing by the time Don Mateo arrived. He was a bit more than fashionably late, but this was by design. He wanted a large crowd suitable for rendering an individual invisible, and he had prepared for the evening with extra care. In the small pocket of his vest sat the De la Vega cufflink. Tucked into a larger pocket was a carefully written note, the sort of thing the French would call a _billet doux_.

Upon arriving at _Rancho_ Torres He offered birthday greetings to Doña Luisa and thanked her and Don Ignacio for their invitation. He exchanged pleasantries with his newfound business associates. He sampled the wine. He learned from Doña Margarita that Don Alejandro's gout was acting up again and therefore the elder De la Vega had sent his regrets. He danced with a number of señoras and señoritas. But above all he discreetly kept his eye on Señorita Catalina Milanes. From various conversations in the pueblo — both those he had participated in and those he had eavesdropped on — he knew that she had just turned sixteen, that, her parents were a bit strict regarding her interactions with young señores, and that her duenna, Doña Carmen, had eyes like a hawk.

So during one of the dances when both Catalina and her formidable duenna were partnered, he headed for the table where the señorita had left her fan, and in passing he "accidentally" knocked the fan to the floor. As he picked it up he slid the note between its folds, leaving just its edge exposed. With luck Catalina would notice it but her duenna would not.

On this night luck was with him. When the young lady picked up her fan she spied the edge of the paper. _A note! From whom? Perhaps Don Sebastían Yorba?_ she thought, her heart suddenly beating faster. He had danced with her three times at the De la Vega fiesta. _Perhaps he wishes to court me!_ So she kept the fan closed. Several minutes later when her parents called Doña Carmen over to introduce a visiting friend, Catalina strolled over to a secluded spot between two large shrubs, opened the note, and read:

 _Senorita:_

 _My heart bursts with love for you. Your blush is more radiant than the glow of sunset, and your eyes put the stars to shame. Meet me under the arbor that I may look upon your face as I sing my praises to your beauty._

Her first _nota de amor_! It was too much for her to resist. She folded up the note again, took care that no one was watching, and slipped away towards the arbor.

All this was keenly observed by Don Mateo Camarena. As he watched Catalina Milanes head toward the garden, he approached a kitchen servant hurrying off with a tray of empty glasses. "Your pardon, but one of the _vaqueros_ has just informed me that there is a serious problem with one of the De la Vega horses. Would you find Don Diego and ask him to go to the corral immediately?"

"Of course, Señor," the man replied politely, nevertheless irritated at yet another task on such a very busy evening. Still holding the tray, he turned away to locate Don Diego. On hearing this message Diego thought it odd, but he excused himself and started out to the carriage area.

Now it was Don Mateo's turn to slip out unnoticed. Once he came through the garden gateway he abandoned the path and quietly crept around the plantings, silent and invisible in the darkness. He slowly neared the arbor, stopping only to pick up a large rock.

Catalina, her heart beating high with the excitement of first romance, waited at the arbor. When she heard a soft step behind her, she turned. She caught only a momentary glimpse of the dark form of a man with something glimmering on his chest before the rock struck her head and she fell, unconscious.

Now he tossed the rock away and set to work. He rolled her over on her back and pulled the _mantilla_ and comb from her hair and tossed them aside. Then he felt for hairpins and pulled several loose, disarranging her hair. Next he tore her left sleeve away from the bodice and pulled her right sleeve down off her shoulder. He pulled the skirt of her gown halfway up, and tore the top two petticoats. He removed one of her shoes. Finally he took the De la Vega cufflink from his pocked and gently slipped it under the edge of her neckline near where the right sleeve joined. Satisfied that he had created the appearance of an assault that had been interrupted, he retrieved the note and left the garden as quickly and as quietly as he had come.

On arriving at the holding area for the carriages, Diego thought it odd that no one was there to show him the problem. Once he spent a few moments examining the team that had pulled their carriage, he thought it odder still that nothing seemed amiss with either of horses. Puzzled, he retraced his steps to the _hacienda_.

But as soon as he entered, it was obvious that something was amiss. There was no music, and everyone was standing around looking at a small group. Catalina Milanes was lying on a couch, Doña Sofia grasping her hand and her father and her duenna looking on anxiously. The señorita's mantilla was gone, her hair all tumbled down, and her gown appeared to be torn in several places. He spied Margarita among the crowd and began to make his way toward her. At his third step it seemed that the guests suddenly grew quiet and everyone turned to look at him. Don Alfredo Milanes stood, glaring at him furiously, then started toward him. Don Ignacio with some difficulty held Catalina's father back, then turned to Diego and held out a small gold object in the palm of his hand.

"Don Diego," he asked coldly, "I must ask you, is this yours?"

Surprised at his old friend's formal tone, he took the object and examined it. "Yes, it is mine. This must be the cufflink that I lost at our anniversary fiesta. Where did you find it?"

"Perhaps you can explain how it came to be entangled in Señorita Catalina's gown?"

Diego was dumbstruck. Realizing the implication, he was at a loss for words. Margarita now moved to stand beside her husband. Finally he stammered: "I — I cannot. But I tell you I lost it a week ago. My servant will verify that I lost it then."

"Bernardo's devotion to you is well known. I am sure he would swear to anything to protect you. Tell me, where you have been these past few minutes?" demanded his host.

"One of your servants informed me of a problem with one of our horses so I went out to the carriages."

"Which servant did this?"

"I really do not remember. He only spoke to me for a moment."

"I will question them all shortly. Perhaps you will be kind enough to show us your sleeves," continued Don Ignacio.

Diego, not liking the implied accusation, bridled at first. To disbelieve the word of a _caballero_ was an insult of the highest order. But realizing he had no choice, he removed his jacket and handed it to his wife. He held out his arms. Plainly visible in each cuff was an onyx stone set in silver.

"These are small things, a man may easily carry an extra set!" declared Don Alfredo, still smoldering.

"That would be most unusual," replied Don Ignacio. "Yet this is a most unusual situation."

"Ignacio, you cannot possibly believe — " began Diego.

"Right now I do not know what to believe, but I do know where that cufflink was found." He stared at Diego, then continued coldly. "Señor, I must ask you to leave my home."

Diego's eyes went wide at the insult and his hand unconsciously went to his left hip. "Ignacio!" He started toward his friend but Margarita restrained him. She was as bewildered as the rest but she understood that the situation could easily get out of hand. At least no one was actually wearing a sword.

"It's best if we go," she said. "Catalina needs to recover. We can't do anything more here."

Don Mateo Camarena smiled inwardly. It was a most satisfactory beginning.


	5. Repercussions

Best Served Cold  
5 - _Repercussions_

Chapter 5: Repercussions

The next day the atmosphere at the De la Vega hacienda was grim. Diego waited until after breakfast to inform his father of the happenings of the night before. The old don's reaction was typical. "How could anyone even think you would do such a thing?!" he cried, instantly red in the face. "And Nacio is one of our oldest and dearest friends! His parents and mine came to Alta California at the same time!" Only the remaining stiffness in his leg kept him from fetching a sword and riding out. For the remainder of the day most of the servants avoided him, except for Cresencia who tried to calm him down.

Diego was angry and frustrated, unable to concentrate on anything. Bernardo hovered over Diego, wanting to do something to make his _patrón_ feel better but totally at a loss as to what to do. When Diego expressed a desire to go riding, Margarita insisted on accompanying him lest he by some "coincidence" her husband would find himself at either the Torres or the Milanes _rancho_. When they stopped to water the horses, he slammed his palm into a nearby tree and exclaimed, "Why do they not believe me?!" Then he turned to his wife. "You believe me, don't you?"

She rushed to him and took his face in both her hands. "Why would you even think you have to ask me that?" Then she kissed him and held him close. In all their years of marriage she had never seen him like this.

When they returned home he disappeared into the secret room and spent two hours sharpening the swords he and Bernardo used as Zorro and "Zorro". Shortly after dinner Margarita was approached by twelve-year-old Roberto. "Where is Papá? It is time for my chess lesson."

"He did not kiss Emmaline and me before our nap," complained Isabella.

"I'm sorry, mi careños, but your Papá is not quite himself this evening. You will have to wait until tomorrow." The boy sighed and went to find his older brother, and Isabella went back to her doll and her younger sister.

Finally the day ran its course, and she put the children to bed by herself. But long after she had retired she heard her husband's footsteps out on the balcony, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth….

By the following morning the elder De la Vega was calmer. He insisted on speaking with Ignacio Torres so a _vaquero_ saddled Soldado and Don Alejandro set out. Two hours later he returned. His news was promising — but only just. He asked Diego and Margarita into the study, and motioned to Bernardo as well. Once the door was closed, he began: "Nacio had told me that after further thought he believes you did not assault Catalina. Luisa is of the same mind. He regrets asking you to leave but he thought it was best under the circumstances. He says Don Alfredo was ready to cut out your heart with a table knife."

"He certainly looked like he wanted to do something like that," observed Diego dryly.

"Ignacio also told me that he has questioned their servants and found the man who told you to go to the corral. But the servant could not say who it was that asked him to do this. He said he did not recognize the guest, that it was not someone from the pueblo."

 _Small consolation_ , thought Margarita, looking at her husband slumped in a chair.

At about the same time, Don Mateo was finishing up discussing business with Don Carlos Yorba, the third man who had expressed interest in the direct trading arrangement. Señor Pacheco had just set their lunch before them. Naturally enough the conversation ran to the sad event at _Rancho_ Torres.

"A great shame for the pueblo," began Don Carlos, digging into his enchiladas.

"Indeed," replied Don Mateo. "I only spoke briefly to Don Diego and his wife at their anniversary party, so I really do not know much about the man." _A simple yet undetectable lie,_ he thought with satisfaction. "Is he well regarded in the community?"

"His family is among the wealthiest and most distinguished in all of Alta California."

"Sometimes the very wealthy can feel they are privileged beyond the law. Perhaps this is the case, since I have not heard that Señor De la Vega has been arrested." He lifted a forkful of rice to his mouth and began to chew.

Don Carlos swallowed and went on. "Yes, the cufflink is most damning. But Lieutenant Garcia is a fair man. He went to question Señorita Catalina yesterday. Unfortunately she is still recovering and really could not speak with him. The Lieutenant is waiting a few days in the hope that she will be able to remember something definite."

"That is perhaps prudent. But I understand that Don Diego is a friend of this officer. Does this not provide an opportunity for him to flee the pueblo?"

"I cannot imagine his doing that. Besides, Don Ignacio has located the servant who told Don Diego about the supposed problem with the horse. So at least that part is true. But the servant does not remember who asked him to give Don Diego this message." Don Carlos took another bite of enchilada.

A frown briefly crossed Don Mateo's forehead. _I had not anticipated that the servant would be identified._ But he recovered quickly. _"_ Well, yes, that means that a message was delivered. But it does not necessarily mean that Don Diego then went to the corral. Did anyone actually see him there?"

"So far as I know, no one has come forward." He took a gulp of wine. "You said you had only spoken briefly with Don Diego at the anniversary fiesta. Was he not interested in your direct trade arrangements?"

Don Mateo picked up a tortilla and began mopping up sauce. "There were so many guests I never got the chance to approach him about it. But even if he had been interested I would not do business with him now."

"Why not?"

"Because until his name is completely cleared I do not consider his family trustworthy. And I never do business with those who are not trustworthy. In fact, for your own protection, I advise you and the other dons to also avoid dealing with the De la Vegas."

Don Carlos picked up the wine bottle and refilled their glasses. "All the _ranchos_ in the area have done business together for many many years. But —"he set the bottle down and sighed, "— perhaps that would be for the best. I will speak to the other dons about it."

Don Mateo again smiled inwardly. Things were going according to plan.

After hearing the results of his father's conversation with Don Ignacio, Diego hoped that the servant would soon remember something and that the worst would be over. It wasn't. Four days after the attack Diego and Bernado made their weekly ride into Los Angeles to glean whatever information they could over a glass of wine with Lieutenant Garcia. They dismounted at the inn, tied their horses to the hitching rail, and entered the building just as they always had.

The large room was about three-quarters occupied and full of conversation. Apparently business was good for Señor Pacheco. But as soon as Diego set foot inside the door the level of noise dropped to little more than a whisper. A few patrons stole a veiled glance at him and Bernardo, but most of them suddenly became completely fascinated by the meal before them. The innkeeper hurried over.

" _Buenos tardes_ , señores. How may I serve you?"

Diego was taken aback. _Señores_? he thought. _I've been in and of this inn since I was a child and now he addresses us as "señores", as though we were strangers._ Aloud he said, "I thought I might find Lieutenant Garcia here, to have lunch with him. Have you seen him today?" He hoped the cheerfulness in his voice sounded less forced than it was.

"Ah, no, señor, regrettably I have not."

"Very well, then I shall wait a little while in case he comes in. Wine, please," he continued, starting to pull out a chair.

"Excuse me, señor, your pardon, but perhaps you and your servant would be more comfortable out on the _taberna_ patio?"

"But this table is fine," replied Diego, starting to sit down.

"Er, señor, I'm afraid I must insist that you have your wine out on the patio," said the innkeeper, looking more and more agitated each second. "This room is very crowded, as you see, there is not much room left, and — "

"Perhaps you would prefer that I take my wine elsewhere," said Diego, a distinct edge in his voice. He rose, motioned to Bernardo, and the two of them strode out to their horses. As they were untying the reins, Diego heard his name. He turned to see Señor Pacheco coming toward them with Lieutenant Garcia in tow.

"A thousand pardons," the innkeeper began. "But, Don Diego, I do not wish you to be harmed and I do not wish to have my inn torn apart in a riot."

"A riot? What riot?"

"There is much talk. Talk about you. Some say that your wealth makes you think you are beyond the law. Some say that Lieutenant Garcia has not arrested you because you are his friend. Some say that you are tired of Doña Margarita and want a younger woman." At this last remark Diego's eyes blazed and the vein in his neck began to throb with anger. The innkeeper, fearful, stepped back two paces and held his hands up, palms outward. "I swear I do not believe any of these things. But many do. Or say they do. Many others do not. And say they do not. If these meet, there is much tension."

"Yesterday," added the Lieutenant, "Don Francisco Ramirez was ready to challenge someone to a duel when Don Ignacio intervened. I am so sorry, Don Diego, but until the real assailant is caught, I must beg you to stay out of the pueblo."

Diego felt mind go numb. "As you wish," he said through clenched teeth. He swung into the saddle and spurred his palomino out of the pueblo at a full gallop, Bernardo close behind.

Don Mateo, observing the exchange from the shadows just inside the patio door, smiled. Yet again.


	6. Logic

Best Served Cold  
6 - _Logic_

Chapter 6: Logic

Restful sleep was becoming a scarce commodity in the De la Vega household. The children were all asleep. But although the fire in their bedroom had burned low, Diego and Margarita still sat in side-by-side chairs, hands joined across the opening between them, staring into the embers. Earlier Bernardo had appeared, a wide smile on his face, holding out Diego's guitar. The don raised weary eyes and shook his head. Bernardo held out the instrument a second time, tilting his head slightly to the side, a pleading expression on his face. Again Diego shook his head. "Go to bed, Bernardo," Diego murmured, staring into the fire once more. The _muzo_ quietly withdrew.

Half an hour later Bernardo was back, his eyes bright with excitement. He stood between the chairs, looking from one to the other of them, and waited. Diego remained withdrawn, but Margarita looked up and acknowledged him: "What is it, Bernardo?" The servant pointed to his own chest, then tapped the side of his head.

"You've been thinking?" she asked.

Bernardo nodded. Now he drew a moustache across his upper lip, grasped the lapels of his jacket, and stared off to his left with a haughty expression.

"A don?" she asked. He nodded. "Don Carlos?" He shook his head. "Don Gregorio?" He shook his head again, then made a "T" with his hands."

" 'T' ?" said Margarita.

" 'T' for 'Torres' ", said Diego, curiosity now rousing from his reverie. "Don Ignacio."

Bernard nodded. Now he stepped briskly one large pace to the side. He picked up a large book, held it in front of him with both hands like a tray, bowed deeply, then pointed to where the imaginary Don Ignacio stood.

"Don Ignacio's servant?" asked Diego.

"The one who told Diego to go to the corral!" added his wife.

Bernardo nodded vigorously. Now he brought his right hand up as if to shade his forehead, squinted, and looked all around the room. Then he spread his hands with palms up, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged his shoulders, still looking around the room.

"Looking for the man who gave him the message?" guessed Margarita. The _muzo_ nodded and continued to scan the room in search of something. "And not finding him!" she continued.

Bernardo now stared point blank at his patrón and patrona and drew a question mark in the air with his finger, making the "dot" with a very pronounced poke.

"Why…" she stated as Bernardo nodded and drew another question mark. "Yes, why couldn't the servant recognize him?"

"Did not my father say that according to the servant the man was not someone from the pueblo?" asked Diego. At this Bernardo and Margarita nodded simultaneously. "So who was there that was not from the pueblo?

"I believe some cousins of Doña Luisa's had come down from San Buenaventura," said Margarita. "But they only arrived the day before."

"But they were not here for our anniversary. They could not have come into the possession of the cufflink. Was there anyone else not from the pueblo?"

They both sat silent for a minute, trying to recall the faces they had seen at _rancho_ Torres. Suddenly Diego's head snapped up: "Señor Camarena!"

"Who?"

"Señor Mateo Camarena, the businessman from Peru. Don César introduced him to my father in the pueblo and my father invited him to our anniversary fiesta. He was here that night, and I also remember seeing him at Dona Luisa's birthday celebration."

"Oh yes, I remember him! He came in with Don César. He was certainly pleasant enough. But the man lives in Peru. What reason could he have for wishing us harm?"

"I do not know," replied her husband, "but I think perhaps someone should have a conversation with him." Bernardo traced a small "Z" in the air, and Diego sprang up and began to reach for the button in the fireplace mantle. "Margarita, would you please tell my father what we have talked about, and that I am riding as Zorro tonight."

Margarita was happy to see the sparkle in his eyes and the energy in his step, but she called out: "Wait!" He stopped and turned. "Diego, I know this is the last thing you expect to hear me say because I'm always reminding you that you are one whole man. But tonight when you ride out as Zorro you must leave 'Diego' completely behind you. If Señor Camarena is the man who planned all this he is extremely clever and therefore very dangerous. You must carry no worries, no frustration, no anger with you. For the sake of our family, tonight of all nights the Fox must have all his wits about him."

He looked deep into her eyes and smiled. " _Querida_ , after all these years I begin to believe you know me better than I know myself. And I am very thankful for that. I will take your thoughts with me and I will be careful, I promise." He kissed her lightly, then he was away through the secret panel, Bernardo at his heels.


	7. Memory

Best Served Cold  
7 - _Memory_

Chapter 7: Memory

Señor Pacheco was very nervous and happy — or very nervous and unhappy — depending on how you looked at things. He was happy because Don Diego had complied with his request to stay away from the inn. The young don had not even set foot in the pueblo for almost a week, let alone stopped in to buy wine for Lieutenant Garcia. Señor Pacheco was unhappy because in addition to being a very good customer, Don Diego was a kind and generous friend. The innkeeper understood how painful the current situation was for the young don, and he missed his frequent visits to the inn. He was nervous because Señorita Milanes' assailant remained unidentified and presumably at large. Uncertainty was breeding considerable unrest in the pueblo.

Lieutenant Garcia was simply unhappy. His only piece of evidence so far was the small and very portable cufflink and he truly did not feel that it was enough to arrest Don Diego. On the other hand, more and more individuals were murmuring that he allowed Don Diego to remain at liberty because the younger De la Vega was his friend. His last hope was that Catalina Milanes was recovered enough to remember something — anything — more about her attacker. Garcia felt he could no longer put off questioning her a second time, so he ordered his horse saddled.

Don Alejandro was seething. The dons had called a meeting to discuss prospects for the next sale of hides. Somehow they had neglected to invite him.

Margarita was nearing exhaustion. Between trying to comfort and support her frustrated husband, calm her angry father-in-law, care for the children, and run the _hacienda,_ most of the time she could barely remember where she was going and what she meant to do when she got there.

Don Mateo Camarena was quite pleased with himself. He had used the excuse that he found the pueblo "charming" to extend his stay. He was only waiting for Don Diego to be arrested and tried before he went back to Peru. If the Señora De la Vega had begun to have doubts about her husband's affections, well, who could blame her? And of course if the De la Vegas suffered serious financial harm from the great disgrace, that was according to plan as well. He had just finished an excellent meal with Don Carlos Yorba during which Don Carlos had expressed reluctance to continue doing business with the De la Vegas and Don Mateo had continually assured his dinner companion that although it must have been a painful decision it was undoubtedly the best course of action at present.

Señorita Catalina Milanes, accompanied by her duenna Doña Carmen, came slowly into the _sala_ where her parents and Lieutenant Garcia were waiting for her. The bruise on her head still made it impossible to dress her hair so it cascaded down her back under a softly draped _mantilla_. She sat down on a couch. Her mother Doña Sofia sat down beside her and took her hand.

Garcia thought how young and vulnerable Catalina looked, more like an older child playing grown-up than a young woman almost ready for marriage. "Señorita," he began gently, "I fear that my questions will cause you some discomfort, but I am afraid that I must ask them in order to identify your assailant."

"I understand," she replied quietly. Her mother squeezed her hand.

"Do you remember anything, anything at all, about the man who attacked you?"

"I remember only hearing someone come up right behind me. I remember I turned towards him, and then — nothing."

"Did you perhaps see his face?"

"No, not clearly. It was very dark."

"Can you remember how tall he was?"

"He was not overly tall…about as tall as my father, I think."

"Was there nothing about him that you recognized?"

She shook her head, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"What about his clothing? How was he dressed?" asked Garcia, almost desperately.

"It was dark."

" _Sí_ , Señorita, we know that it was dark in the garden but — "

"No, Lieutenant, I mean that his suit was dark, almost black. There _was_ a little starlight, but he blended right into the shadows."

The officer turned to Don Alfredo and Doña Sofia. "Do either of you remember what Don Diego was wearing that night?"

"I believe he was dressed in a suite of medium color, blue I think. It was definitely not black," replied Doña Sofia.

"Why do you ask about Don Diego?" inquired Señorita Milanes.

The Lieutenant hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Because…because, Señorita, we found a cufflink bearing the De la Vega crest among the folds of your torn dress."

"Oh no, no!" she exclaimed. "It could not have been Don Diego! I am sure of it."

"But how can you say that if you remember so little?" objected her father.

"Because even though I did not see him well, I remember his overall form. He was about as tall as my father, who is not as tall as Don Diego, and he was not as broad in the shoulders as Don Diego. It could not have been Don Diego."

"But if it was so dark…?"

She stared off into the distance for a few seconds, then sighed. "I am afraid that is all I remember. He was not so tall, and his clothing was dark —" she suddenly sat upright "— except for the embroidery on his vest!"

"Embroidery?" echoed Doña Sofia, herself an expert needlewoman.

"Yes, his vest was decorated with much gold embroidery. I could see it glimmer even in the starlight."

"An embroidered vest is not the style here in Alta California," declared her father, who was very particular about the cut of his clothing. "Perhaps we could ask tailor Pedro Llamas if he has done that sort of work for anyone here."

Doña Sofia's brows furrowed. "I believe Don Diego's jacket was embroidered, much on the sleeves and some on the front. His vest was ornamented very little, only around the neckline, but not in gold. We all saw that when he took off his jacket to show Don Ignacio his sleeves and cufflinks."

The two men looked at Doña Sofia. " _Cara_ ," began her husband, "you tend to remember such things. Can you recall anyone who was wearing an embroidered vest?"

Now it was Doña Sofia's turn to stare off into the distance as she tried to recall the appearance of the various male guests that night. At last her head tilted slightly and her eyes widened. "Now that I think about it, I believe the gentleman from Peru was wearing such a vest. Yes, I am sure of it! I danced with him twice and the second time I complimented him on the quality of the work."

"Don Mateo!" exclaimed Garcia.

"That still does not explain the cufflink," countered Don Alfredo.

"I agree, it does not," declared Garcia, who was beginning to see a glimmer of hope. "But now I must talk immediately with Don Mateo Camarena." The officer rose. "Señorita, I thank you for your help. I know this was not an easy thing for you."

"You are most welcome, Lieutenant. And I do not mind. No one wants this man captured more than I do."

Lieutenant Garcia left the _hacienda,_ mounted his horse, and rode off into the twilight.


	8. Vengeance

Best Served Cold  
8 - _Vengeance_

Chapter 8: Vengeance

Señor Camarena blew a stream of fine smoke from his _cubano_ into the soft evening air, then finished the last of his brandy. The inn's patio had been unusually quiet this evening, and he had enjoyed the solitude as he watched the fading sunset and the lengthening shadows. Now he went back into the inn and made his way slowly up the stairs, looking forward to perhaps half an hour with his book and then a peaceful sleep. He had just set his candle down and closed the door to his room behind him when he felt the breeze from a window he was sure he had not left open. Turning quickly, he beheld a black-clad masked figure holding a drawn sword, perched almost nonchalantly on the windowsill. "Who are you?" he asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

"I am known by many names, but you can call me 'Zorro', " declared the visitor coldly.

"Ah, the famous Señor Zorro! I was hoping to make your acquaintance during my stay," was Mateo Camarena's courteous reply. Then the don's face darkened. "But I would much rather address you by your real name: Diego De la Vega!"

The outlaw was surprised, but he kept his emotion hidden. _Sometimes a mask is useful in more ways than one,_ he thought. He slipped down from the sill and advanced into the room with his sword held casually at his side. He shook his head. "That, Señor, is an old old tale in the pueblo. Somehow it never quite seems to die. But if you enjoy addressing me in that fashion I will not deny you the pleasure. Indeed, I can hardly stop you short of cutting out your tongue or killing you. And either of those will prevent you from answering the questions I came to ask."

"Play what games you wish, De la Vega. I know it is you behind that mask."

"A remarkable feat, Señor, since I am sure that we have never met before."

"No, we have not," answered Don Mateo. "You have never met me. But you have met my uncle. It was he who told me your name."

"It is true that a very few men have managed to remove my mask. But all of them now dead."

"Indeed that is true, for my uncle is dead. But he did not remove your mask. You removed it yourself and showed him your face."

Now Zorro was curious. "I removed my mask and showed my face to your uncle? Why would I do such a thing?" asked the outlaw.

"To taunt and humiliate him," hissed Don Mateo, an increasing edge to his voice.

"I do not believe I have met anyone named 'Camarena'. So where did I encounter this uncle of yours, to whom I was so revealing?" queried Zorro.

"In Spain, at the University. A long time ago. But you would not have known him as 'Camarena' for he was my mother's brother, not my father's. Perhaps you will recognize the name of — Ramon Castillo." He spat the name almost as a challenge.

A chill ran down Zorro's spine and he froze for an instant. Yes, he knew Ramon Castillo as a fierce competitor from his University days, a man willing to do anything for victory. Then not too long after Diego had returned home, Ramon and a man named Marcos Estrada had come to Los Angeles and had tried to steal the lancers' payroll. Later, thanks to his efforts as Zorro, the two of them ended up being captured while robbing the inn. And in a moment of prideful stupidity, while Innkeeper Pacheco kept his back to the inn's staircase and held Ramon at sword's point, at the top of the stairs Zorro had removed the black mask, grinned and saluted his old adversary. He now cursed the arrogance that had caused him to do such a foolish thing.

"Ah, you remember after all!" exclaimed Don Mateo, seeing recognition in the outlaw's eyes. "Yes, my uncle hated you even before he arrived in this miserable pueblo. You, Diego De la Vega, you cheated him out of the Royal Cup all those years ago, and then you made a mockery of him in the eyes of everyone in Los Angeles. You and that mask and that cape and your cheating sword! He told me all about the tricks you used in the competition."

"My sword has cheated no one, not in Spain, not in Los Angeles. I disarmed your uncle in a fair fight — twice."

"That is not what he told me. And he could never let go of it. As hard as he worked to build _Vientos Buenos_ , that humiliation still ate deep into his soul. We would be having a fine day and then he would see something very ordinary — a Seville orange, perhaps, or a shipment of hides from Alta California — and it would drive him to a black despair for days. He would come out of it, of course. But always it would return. And as he became older it began to return more and more frequently. His dying wish was that I, whom he looked upon as a son, would make you pay for all the ways you humiliated him.

"If your uncle was such a noble man, why was he stealing the military payroll and robbing the inn?" asked Zorro, the tip of his blade now pointing squarely at Don Mateo's chest.

"That is a lie! He did no such thing!"

"Oh, I assure you that he did. He undoubtedly simply forgot to mention these little things to you. And did he tell you that he and Estrada were on their way to prison when they escaped and disappeared?"

"Perhaps that is true. He never talked about his journey between Los Angeles and Lima. Nevertheless, I have sworn to make you pay, and I will. En garde!" he shouted, leaping forward, his sword springing like lightening from his scabbard.

 _And now it all makes sense_ , thought Zorro, parrying the initial thrust _The attack on Señorita Milanes was never meant to actually harm her, but to disgrace me and my family within the pueblo. And this plan has worked very well so far_.

The two men fought but the room was small, with little room for effective swordplay. So when he had worked his way over to the door, Mateo Camarena opened it and backed out onto the inn's balcony to give himself more room. Once clear of the doorway, he shouted, "Lancers! Summon the lancers! I have El Zorro!" Startled, everyone below stopped eating and looked up. Then one man jumped up and ran out across the plaza towards the _cuartel_.

Don Mateo had expected that defeating the notorious Señor Zorro would be fairly easy. After all, his Uncle Ramon had trained him long and hard until Mateo's skill was the equal of his own. His uncle had also repeatedly described Diego De la Vega as merely a slightly above-average swordsman who used distraction and unorthodox techniques to win. But less than two minutes into the encounter Don Mateo came to the sudden and unhappy conclusion that his uncle had been horribly wrong. By the time he and Zorro had fought their way down the stairs, the visitor from Peru realized that he was facing a master swordsman the like of whom he had never seen, let alone engaged. Don Mateo was more and more aware of his own inadequacy against such an opponent, and was now beginning to wonder if he was in the process of effecting his own death.

Zorro fought, his blade moving like a tongue of fire, driven by his outrage at the assault on Señorita Milanes and the false accusation against him and his family. He backed Don Mateo across the floor and then in a single fluid motion disarmed him and pinned him back against the inn's bar, the point of his sword resting none too gently against the don's throat. "Now," ordered the masked man, "tell us all about your attack on Catalina Milanes!"

"But I know nothing of — '

"Speak!" demanded Zorro, pressing the point of his sword slightly farther into his opponent's flesh. Mateo Camarena remained silent, looking around in helpless panic. None of the inn's customers was willing to cross swords with Zorro to defend him. Many who had witnessed the swordplay would swear that Zorro would have killed Mateo Camarena then and there if Lieutenant Garcia and six lancers had not burst through the door just then.

"Help me!" screamed the don, seeing the lancers arrive.

Garcia looked from Don Mateo to Zorro and back to Don Mateo again. He decided it was best to question the don now and chase Zorro later. After all, somehow with Zorro there was always a 'later'. The Lieutenant drew his own sword and announced in his 'official' voice: "Don Mateo Camarena, I wish to question you in the matter of the attack on Señorita Catalina Milanes."

Zorro smiled at this. "A pleasant surprise, Lieutenant. We are both of the same mind for a change. " But the tip of his blade did not move.

"But I tell you I know nothing!" protested Don Mateo yet again.

The officer turned to two of his lancers: "You two, go and search his room." The two men started up the stairs but halfway up they stopped, turned, looked at each other, then looked at Garcia, whose face simply mirrored their puzzled expressions. "What?" he asked.

Innkeeper Pacheco came to their rescue: "Room two." The lancers hurried up the rest of the stairs and disappeared down the hall.

The Comandante pressed on. "I ask you again, Señor Camarena, what do you know of the attack on Señorita Milanes?" The man remained silent and merely shook his head, as far as the point of Zorro's sword would allow him to. "Señor, if you will not speak then I must arrest you in the name of — "

Now truly desperate, Don Mateo suddenly cried, "Wait! I know who Zorro is!"

Garcia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes! I will trade you his name for my freedom!" A hush fell over the customers. Don Mateo slowly raised his right arm and pointed directly at the outlaw. "This man, El Zorro, is really — " he paused for dramatic effect — "Diego De la Vega!" he finished in triumph. Stunned silence reigned for perhaps three seconds. Then there was a raucous outburst of laughter. Don Mateo could not believe his ears. "But he is Zorro, I swear! Unmask him, make him show his face!" At this idea the laughter only got louder.

"Unmask him? Oh, a simple matter, I am sure," observe the Lieutenant sarcastically. Then he just shook his head and sighed. "Will that tired old story never die?" Don Mateo would have opened his mouth to insist further, but at that moment the two lancers sent to search his room appeared at the top of the steps. One of them was holding an article of clothing.

"Comandante, look! Here is a vest with gold embroidery all over the front!" They brought it down and handed it to Garcia, who examined the ornate pattern of gold thread. "It is just as she described it," he declared. Then anger darkened his face. "Señor Camarena, I arrest you for the attempted violation of Señorita Catalina Milanes. You will find that here in Alta California we cherish out women's virtue and protect them above all things."

"No! No! I never actually wanted to violate her! I only attacked her to throw blame on De la Vega and ruin his name! And I — "

"So," ventured Zorro, his sword still resting at Señor Camarena's throat, "you admit to knocking her out, disheveling her gown, and planting the cufflink?

"Yes, but only to give the appearance of — " Mateo Camarena suddenly closed his mouth. He realized that he had just confessed to a serious crime in front of the pueblo's comandante and everyone else at the inn."

At last Zorro removed the point of his sword from Don Mateo's throat. "Lieutenant Garcia, I believe this man now belongs to you." He saluted the Lieutenant with his blade then stepped away and made for the stairs. But Don Mateo took advantage of this slight distraction and immediately bolted through the door to the kitchen.

"After him!" shouted Garcia.

Old habits die hard. The lancers automatically started after Zorro. "No, not him, _babosos_! After Don Mateo!" cried the officer, pointing his sword toward the kitchen door.

Happily it was an easy capture. Not knowing the layout of the inn's kitchen, Don Mateo in his panic jerked open the first heavy door he came across. Instead of the inn's patio he found himself facing shelves full of cooking pots, extra crockery, a dozen sacks of flour, and jars of jams and honey. There was nowhere for him to go.


	9. Afterwards

Best Served Cold  
9 - _Afterward_

Chapter 9: Afterwards

It had been two weeks since the arrest of Don Mateo Camarena, and Diego had yet to pay for his own wine when he visited the pueblo. Those who had been expressing doubts about Diego's character were now most anxious to demonstrate their warm feelings of friendship. Landowners who were previously keeping their distance from the De la Vega family were now most eager in extending their hospitality. Dinner invitations were arriving almost daily. A group of dons had called to inform Don Alejandro of the outcome of the contract meeting and to apologize for "accidentally" forgetting to invite him.

Lieutenant Garcia was once again happy to share a bottle of wine as Don Diego's guest. Halfway through their first glass Diego asked, "Did Senor Camarena have anything more to say after he confessed in front of everyone at the inn? I wish I could have been there."

"Well, he insisted over and over again that he never intended to violate Senorita Milanes. He finally explained how he came by the cufflink at your anniversary fiesta, and how he decided to use it to discredit you." Garcia took another gulp of his wine. "Ah! I almost forgot!" Reaching into a pocket, he held out the infamous cufflink. He handed it to Diego with a sheepish look. "I am sorry about asking you to stay away from the pueblo. I knew you could not have done it, but I could not ignore this as evidence and there was much unrest."

Diego took the cufflink, smiling. "Lieutenant, do not give it another thought. I am happy to have it back — I think. After all, I would have to send all the way to Spain for another one, eh?" Then he, too, became a little more serious. "I realize how it made things look, and I understand that you were doing your job as any loyally sworn officer would." He reached for the bottle, refilled their glasses, and raised his own. "I salute your devotion to duty." They drank up together.

Diego and his father were relaxing out on the patio as dusk deepened into the coolness of nighttime. Margarita had just bid goodnight to the two of them and was heading up to check on the children before going to bed. Halfway up the staircase she paused and looked down. Seeing her husband leaning back in his chair in the shadows below, completely at ease, she breathed a small prayer of thanks that the whole business was over. When she had embraced him for a kiss his body was relaxed, the past weeks' tension gone at last. Chess, fencing, guitar, and other family routines had all fallen back into place.

Don Alejandro, too, had returned to his normal if sometimes temperamental self. But tonight he was mellow, indulging in a second _cubano_ with his brandy. Finally he turned to his son: "Whatever made you do it, Diego? Did you not realize how dangerous it was to reveal yourself like that? I thought you had outgrown your boyhood need to play pranks."

The younger De la Vega was thoughtful for a moment. "Truly, Father, I never planned such a thing. Ramon was so insistent on forcing my hand that I could not resist taunting him. I believed what I did was harmless because I thought the lancers would take him for robbing the inn and I would never see him again. I never thought that what I did would come back one day to threaten my family. Besides, at that time I suppose I thought I would never be able to have a family."

"Yes, but now you do have a family and that foolish action could have put all of them in danger! At least be thankful that Monastario is long gone and after Governor De Solá's apology no one thinks that you are Zorro. Happily no one believed Camarena any more than they believed his uncle.

"For that I _am_ very thankful," he replied.

"Is there anyone else in the past who has seen Zorro's face?"

"I have been thinking long and hard about that. The false Ortega pulled off my mask as we fought, then fell to his death from the roof. Perico died in a landslide, and Emissary Basilio was shot by Capitán Mendoza. Beyond that I can remember no one else who has seen Zorro unmasked."

"Do you know if any of these men have relatives or friends who would look to avenge their deaths?"

"Perhaps, but Ramon Castillo was the only person who knew the true extent of Diego's skill. The rest would come looking only for Zorro.

"Then for the sake of your wife and children let us hope that no one else comes looking for either of you."

Diego tilted his head back and looked up at the stars. He prayed that there were no other forgotten incidents in his past that would bring such misery on those he loved. "Amen to that, Father," he replied. "Amen to that."

 **_ FIN _**

 **A/N:** Reviews please! They are always welcome, and they help keep me going.


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